


R&R

by Persephone_Van_Dyke



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-25
Updated: 2011-07-25
Packaged: 2017-10-21 18:08:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persephone_Van_Dyke/pseuds/Persephone_Van_Dyke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Year That Never was, the Tardis is matchmaking...</p>
            </blockquote>





	R&R

**Author's Note:**

> Missing scene from _Last Of The Time Lords_
> 
> Not my characters, not making any money from this

'Right,' the Doctor had said. 'She's ready to go.'

'Definitely?' Martha had asked, looking at the Tardis the way you would at an injured friend who insists they're fine.

'She's fine to get us as far as the Vortex, and then, then I'm going to take care of you properly and fix everything he did, promise,' and he's basically talking to the box now, one hand tenderly on her frame. Jack and Martha exchanged glances.

'I dunno about you,' Jack said (but he did, she was fined-down and wiry, her face drawn. Every trace of fear had left her but there's a cost to that, as he knows damn well) 'but I could use a few days just doing absolutely nothing, before I head home.'

Martha looks torn. Her family is being checked over by a medical team and escorted home. She should be with them right now. A troubled glance between her and the Doctor.

'Martha,' he says in the voice that sounds like she's the only person in the world he can see, that voice that makes her melt. His hands gently on her shoulders, he's looking straight at her. 'I can get you back for two minutes in the future, remember? Come and have some Rest and Recuperation. Of all of us, you've earned it.'

 

So they had been rattling round the Vortex for a couple of days

The Doctor was completely overhauling the Tardis to fix whatever the Master had done, much swearing and the occasional yell emerged from under the gratings in the control room as he tinkered about, trying to get her back to normal as tenderly as possible. He was still trying to get used to not being a century too old, and sore and so broken.  And he was grieving, very quietly, and in ways you could only tell if you really watched him. Sometimes, his lips would twist a little and his eyes glisten. 

Martha was secretly steeling herself to leave for good, something she decided on when she saw her family again on the Valiant. She hasn't mentioned this to the Doctor, but she'd told Jack, who couldn't blame her a bit. He'd already taken the decision to return to Cardiff as soon as he felt whole and clean again.

Aside from the odd trip to somewhere very peaceful and safe to get food – delicacies from Boeshane for Jack, comfort food like her Nan used to cook for Martha – they stayed in flight.

Jack is very good at appreciating these times - he is able to think of it as 'being on leave' He has shoved all the horrible stuff behind him – now he is going to eat real food and drink a little and talk lots and just – well, just be Jack for a bit. Not a facade put on to cheer up his men or his team or the collective Joneses, but really Jack.

So when he woke up on the third morning, warm, comfy, curled into a big duvet with a warm person next to him, he sighed happily and went to turn over.

And then asked himself who the warm person was, and was fully awake like _that_.

He definitely hadn't gone to bed with someone last night. He would have remembered, especially after this long.

 _Fuck_.

He opened his eyes. Curled on one side with her back to him was Martha, still asleep. Wearing what looked like a big T-shirt, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. Like him, she seemed warm and cosy.

Jack's brow furrowed. How did that happen, she sleeps the other side of the corridor?  Is this some sort of mind trick? His pulse speeds, thinking of the Master, his cruel little mind games.

'Uh - '

He tried to think his way round this one. How is he going to wake her up without freaking her out?  After the year she's had, he will not only freak her out but she would possibly strangle him – never a fun death, and he always ends up biting his tongue, which really hurts.

Checking hastily that no part of him is touching her, he whispered 'Martha? Hey, Martha!'

Well schooled by her year on the run, she jolted awake.

'Huh? Yes?'

'Martha, why are you in my bed?'

' _What_?'

She flipped over to face him, scared, angry.

'Jack!' She sighed, her defensive posture deflated a little. 'What the fuck are you - ?'

The lights flicked on above them. Two lights.

Jack's room only has one light.

'Woah.'

Now they can see clearly, they notice the wall. The walls.

Jack's room is an unequivocal white, functional, practical. Martha's, it seems, is blue. Running from between their – mismatched, Jack noticed – pillows, up the wall and across the ceiling, there is a point where one wall meets the other.

They are both still in their own beds, but now their beds are joined in the middle.

'OK,' said Jack, who knows a bit more about the Tardis and her strange habit of telepathically rearranging things for her occupants, 'what happens while I am _dreaming_ – that _does not count as a request_ , OK?' He reached up and patted the wall. 'Thank you, though,' he added.

'What?' demanded Martha again.

'The Tardis has this residual low-level telepathic field,' Jack explained – he was half-whispering and not sure why. 'She moves things around to make it easier for us. Like, last time I was aboard, I woke up one morning with extra blankets slung over me – and one time, she randomly produced a coat-hanger so I could hang up my overcoat. She works out what we need, usually, but – I've never seen her actually _matchmake_.'

'Oh...' Martha grinned. 'I wondered why there was a mix CD of my favoutite stuff on my dressing table – I thought it was the Doctor.'

Oh hell, thought Jack. You thought he made you a mix CD? Bless you.

'So,' Martha continued, 'she's moved us into a shared bed...' she looked at him sternly

'This is not my fault,' said Jack. 'To be honest, when I woke up I thought you'd put something in my drink.'

'Huh, like I'd need to,' she said, with her cute little almost-laugh. Too true, Jack thought. Just smile that smile at me...

'OK,' she added, looking up and behind him. 'So, what's that?'

The other side of Jack – the side he hadn't looked yet – the wall changed again in another neat strip, this time to plain metal sheeting, the sort you get in spaceships before anyone thinks to add creature comforts.

And, the bed on Jack's other side became the lower half of a bunk bed, and in it...

The Doctor. Curled up, oblivious, fast asleep, only a fluff of hair even visible...

The Doctor.

Jack looked back at Martha.

'Oh, she has _way_ overstretched herself this time,' he said.

'Why would she do that?'

'Maybe she's been picking up on all the sexual tension,' said Jack. 'I mean – I may be hypersensitive but – don't you think the three of us have kind of a vibe going on?'

'I s'pose,' said Martha. 'Should we wake him up?'

'And explain what we're both doing in his bed?'

'OK, never mind.' She looked at him, her face serious. He really, really wishes he could forget – now she's in bed with him – how attractive he finds her.

'So, you dreamed about me?' she asked. There's a fair whack of disbelief in her voice.

'Dreams are not good indications of actual desires, unless you're Sigmund Freud,' Jack said. 'Which, last time I checked, you weren't.'

'But you did?'

'I have lots of dreams,' he said, vaguely defensive. But, short of quoting her the one example he can remember – which involved a human girl, a cat-girl, and John Hart, and was based in something that happened when he was 26 – he can't think of a good example.

'But you've thought about it?'

Uh, yeah,' he said, in his _duh_ voice.

'Me too.'

'Oh. OK. In a good way?'

'Mmm – ' she considered. ' - yeah. In a pretty good way.'

'I thought you were – well – more into him,' he said, with a vague flick of his head towards the Doctor, sleeping peacefully behind him.

'Yeah, well – I mean he's – yes, but. I never thought he'd be “the only man I could ever look at”,' she said, her eyes tiliting up as she went sappy-voiced in mockery.

'Mmm. Me too. He's amazing but – we wait for him to notice us, we're gonna wait a helluva long time,' he said softly.

'And he's asleep.'

'Yeah. Oblivious.'

'Better be quiet then,' and in her voice he hears, for sure, the _yes_ he's been thinking he could hear since she asked about his dreams.

'OK,' he said, and reached out an arm to draw her towards him.

They rolled together, lips touching first, then her breasts pressed against his chest. The kiss was intense – she gives back everything he gives her, as keen as he is, warm, passionate, single-minded. He felt his vague morning erection get serious so fast it ached for a second, and his hands pressed along her back while she locked one arm round his shoulders and dragged him in against her, exhaling hard between kisses.

It's been a very long time for both of them. And, while he knows this isn't love – friendship and comradeship and chemistry, not love – it makes perfect sense to him because any one of those three is a good basis for fucking where he comes from. And she seems to be feeling it too.

Turned on as he is, he holds off on being grabby, letting her hands chase over his skin for a bit before he reciprocates. But as soon as he does, when one hand traces over the curve of her butt – it feels as good as it looks, which is saying quite a lot – she rolls into him, and over, her knee slotting neatly between his, and her weight coming down squarely on his chest. He frees his other arm, and hugs her to him hard, supporting her body against his, his hand tangling in her hair.

She's grinding against him, too, she must be really into this, it feels astoundingly good, he coud keep kissing her for hours except neither of them have the patience, it feels like it's going to be hard and rapid and hungry and -

'What?'

In unison, their heads flick to the left.

' _What_?'

The Doctor is awake, staring at them both as if they had fallen in from a parallel universe.

'How - you're in my – _WHAT_?'

Jack took a breath to explain, and the Doctor forestalled him with that sudden half-howl of realisation he does when his brain is working very very fast.

'Aaaaoh! Residual low-level telepathy, oh you - ' he reached up to stroke the wall above his head, exasperated and affectionate. 'I've told you not to do that,' he muttered.

'We thought - '

'She matchmakes,' said the Doctor. 'Looks like she's getting good at it,' he added, glancing at the two of them, tangled up together in the bedclothes. Martha rolled off Jack hastily, leaving him cold and wilting slightly, worried about the Doctor's reaction, and whether that was his only chance.

'Right. Yes, sorry.'

He looked nonplussed.

'I probably should have warned you – she does this occasionally. When she feels like it, it's like – oh, like your mum trying to set you up.' He looked more disconcerted that either had expected, but less angry. 'Um – usually she fixes it, eventually, but it takes a little while.' Pause. 'Tea. I'm going to make tea. Do you want tea?'

Martha stared at him, not sure if this was his way of dealing with them – pretty unfairly, if one was honest – starting to screw while in his bed.

'Sorry – we just – sorry - '

'My fault,' said Jack, who is gentlemanly in taking the blame for the ridiculous situations his sluttiness gets him into. 'We just sorta - '

The Doctor was disentangling himself from the bedclothes – which had become a hybrid of two different duvets and a slightly ascetic sleeping-bag, and were tricky.

'Oh, hang on.' Pause. 'Not making tea,' said the Doctor, 'I'm naked.'

'Come join the party,' said Jack, before he could stop himself.

'Nah. I don't – well, I don't. I mean, she sets me up,' he glanced irritably at the striped wall. 'But she's never – really – got it right.'

Martha's face has fallen. She looks like something precious has slipped out of her grip.

Jsack is more aware of the look of internal questioning on the Doctor's face, like someone trying to find the right answer to some horrendous mental arithmetic.

'We were just saying,' Jack said, quietly. 'If you were on for it – we'd both be right there.'

'Yeah,' agreed Martha, fervently.

The Doctor swallowed.

'Oh – aaaoh – all right then, go on.'

No idea why he agreed, and he didn't say. Neither of them liked to ask and break the moment.

And then he wriggled awkwardly closer and put a hesitant arm across Jack's chest, his fingers touching Martha's arm.

There was a pause, in which he stroked her skin very gently, and Jack, in the middle, felt a smile of genuine frubble* touch his face.

'OK,' Jack said, when it felt right to break the silence. 'I have a suggestion – guest goes in the middle.'

'Who's the guest?' asked Martha.

'Anyone never had a threesome?' offered Jack.

'I have,' said Martha.

Jack looked at her.

'My first year at college – my boyfriend at the time, Dave, and Natalie, my best mate – we were pretty drunk - '

Jack stores up this image for later, turns to his other side.

'No,' said the Doctor.

'OK, you in the middle,' Jack told him. 'The other thing – anyone says stop and we stop. Anyone's uncomfortable, say so. Cool?'

'Works for me.'

'Mmm,' said the Doctor.

'Excellent.'

Jack sat up, manouvred carefully over the Doctor's slender body and flomped down on the other side of him.

He started stroking the Doctor's hair, very gently, letting him have time to adjust, and Martha rolled into the warm space he had left and very, very slowly, kissed the Doctor. Not like the sudden passion she had given Jack – this was tender, first-time, can't-believe-I'm-doing-this gentleness. Jack recognises it, knows the feeling, can't help but be glad he got out of the way for them to have fun.

Also, it's immensely nice to be able to touch this skinny, pale body, even gingerly, just with his fingertips and lips, to explore and play and tease and please...he worked carefully over the Doctor's back, stroking, kissing, ocasionally nipping gently at the pale skin. Martha's hands creep round the Doctor, and Jack takes time out to kiss each joint of each of her fingers and lick the pad of her thumb, inhaling the scent of her, taking his time. The hand flexes gently free once he's finished, feels about, and ruffles his hair affectionately. Jack can hear them kissing, which is somehow even hotter than seeing them do it. But then -

He leaned up on one elbow and looked at the pair of them – Martha is once again taking the lead, slightly on top, and the Doctor is on his back, holding her to him, his eyes shut, apparently completely spaced out. Jack gives him room to stretch comfortably and leans over, kisses Martha's forehead. She tilted her face up to meet his lips and they exchanged a long, intimate kiss before he drew away, smiling at her, meeting her eyes and giving her full silent encouragement to keep pulling the Doctor.

Jack began to work unhurriedly down the Dotor's neck, brushed his collarbone and crossed it. He's quite good at being the extra pair of hands in threesomes, the one who can take a step back and give and not need to be the centre of attention. He reached the Doctor's nipple, glanced up to meet Martha's eye again, grinned a one-sided grin at her, and nipped it. The Doctor squeaked, opened his eyes.

'Ow,' he said. In Jack and Martha's shared eye contact, there is a silent “Isn't-he-cute?” signal.

'Sorry,' Jack said, and dipped his head again, licking very gently at the nipple as if to make it better. While focussed on this, he hears the Doctor give a long sigh, and registers that Martha must have done something – yes, there's her arm reaching down for -

Again, he stops, looks. Feels glad.

Her hand is dipped under the blankets, moving very slowly, up and down, along – if Timelord biology is anything like Jack suspects, and he's been checking it out carefully at every opportunity – the Doctor's cock.  Something about the brush of skin, dark against pale, makes him melt.

(This is not about the racial difference. Jack has lived where there are about a hundred non-humanoid species that can theoretically have sex with humans, and that's leaving aside the felidae and the reptilia and the half-humans and the near-enough-it-doesn't-really-count-as-cross-species folks. If he was the type to get off on the power visuals of difference, there would be much more creative options in his mind than watching a black earth-girl groping a white Timelord. But these are two people he cares about, having fun, and Martha is doing something he's been longing to do for about a century, and he's identifying hard with her and enjoying her enoyment and basically, he's not even worrying about the politics of what he's hot over, he's just a bundle of adrenaline and snuggling and the urge to give pleasure).

He moved lower, hitching the cover over himself so the other two don't get cold, kissing along the bars of the Doctor's ribs down to where he encounters a smooth lap of muscle, across the navel – inhaling deeply the scent of Timelord, which is lovely and vague and delicate – and then meets Martha's hand, reaching to brush his cheek. Again, he kissed her – on the palm, this time, using his tongue, running over the lines of her hand – til she pulled it away and left him free to go lower, to dip down and -

'Oaaaaaoh.'

The Doctor twitched as Jack's lips touched.

'This OK?' Jack asked, looking up. The Doctor had looked up, was staring down at him, and Martha's head was turned too.

'Um – um – yes?'

Something a little frightened in his voice made Jack stop.

'You sure?'

'Yes – yes that's good. Yes.' Decision in his voice. Reassured, Jack went back, continued where he left off. His hair is brushing against Martha's leg, which has interlocked with the Doctor's right thigh, and never one to forego a technical challenge, he began to stroke it, carefully along her thigh, matching the moves with those of his lips, so that he finds her warmth under his fingertips the same moment he takes the Doctor's tip in his mouth. A shared reaction moves them both, makes them stop.

Jack keeps going.

'He's good.' Martha said, mostly to the Doctor.

'Oh yes. He can stay,' the Doctor said, a light tone, reassuring. Jack's fingers are very carefully moving, parting her lips and meeting

 _\- oh god_ , he almost said againt the Doctor's cock, a fresh wave of arousal flooding him -

the warmth and wetness of her pussy, and he traces til he finds her clit and then circles it, very slowly, feeling the central point of her excitement.

Martha suddenly arched her hips forwards with a little moan. The Doctor drew her tighter in against him. Jack just about kept his place.

Teasing Martha, he goes back and forth over her clit til she twitched again, then slipped one finger inside her. She was wet and smooth, turned on to his touch and the Doctor's kisses. The Doctor has one hand very shyly on her breast, massaging gently.

One finger flexing inside Martha, Jack moved his dual focus a little back the the Doctor, who was shifting against his mouth, hard and damp and slightly salty on his tongue. He's making noises, beginning to move, working with Jack, and going slightly faster so Jack shifts his pace to keep up, one finger still inside Martha, almost automatically bending to brush her G-spot in time the Doctor's rapid moves.

'Ah – ah – aaaahhhh – ah!'

Unexpectedly, the Doctor shuddered, and began to come. Jack speeded up and rode it out with him, taking him as deep as he could, swallowing, and leading down gently as he felt the pulsations ebb down and slow.

'Aoh. Oh. Uoh.'

The Doctor took a deep breath.

'Woah,' Jack said, looking up. 'You're hot.' He bent again to kiss the Doctor's cock, warm and damp and spent. Martha clung on to the Doctor tight, kissing his forehead and his cheek, then nestling her face next to his and just holding him.  He looked beautiful, his eyes shut, panting, chin up, and naked.

Jack crawled back up the bed to hug him, withdrawing that questing finger, and giving Martha's clit a swift, teasing flick before taking his hand away. He'd rarely had someone climax that easily – either Timelords are naturally quick or it had been quite a while.

Again, he and Martha met eyes across the Doctor. Deliberately, he licked the finger that had been inside her, his eyes firmly fixed on hers. Her face was gorgeous – pleased for the Doctor, calm, happy, and still turned on for him.

The Doctor opened his eyes.

'Oh. Mm. That was. Blimey.'

Martha laughed.

'S'OK, I have this effect,' Jack teased. He kissed the Doctor's lips swiftly. 'You are really fucking cute when you come.'

'Oh?' He sounded vague, spacey. 'Good mouth,' he added.

'Not bad fingers either,' said Martha.

'Hey, stop stroking my ego.  It's big enough already,' he joked. But he saw Martha's eyes flick down the bed.

The Doctor sighed.

'I should let you two do – whatever humans do next,' he said.

'You can watch if you like,' said Martha cheerfully, then 'if Jack doesn't mind?'

'I am nothing if not an exhibitionist,' said Jack. 'OK, gorgeous. Come here.'

Martha rolled over the Doctor's body, giggling, and on to Jack's. Her leg brushed his cock and it felt like fireworks.

The kissed, Martha still on top, setting the pace – and setting it fast and hungry. It felt oddly good, with the Doctor lying on his side, his head resting on one arm, looking at them. She sat astride Jack and he felt her wetness against his abdomen. Expertly, he manouvred his hand down and slid two fingers into her, much too slowly so she groaned and called him names and clenched on him. He found the sensitive place inside her and beckoned against it til she shuddered and clung to him, gripping hard on his shoulders and then bending to kiss him so he had to pull his hand away or have it crushed between them. Then they rubbed and ground against each other til they were both gasping.

'I really want – you inside me,' Martha muttered in his ear, her teeth clenched. Jack bit his lip.

'OK – hang on - '

He stopped, looking up unexpectedly at the parti-coloured wall.

'Sweetheart – I'm gonna need my coat. Please?'

He reached up, stroked his fingertips along the wall. There was a pause, and a ' _flump_!', and something heavy landed on his legs.

'Thank you, babe.'

'Why do you want your coat?' asked the Doctor, curiously. He was looking quite relaxed and interested, as if his companions fucked in front of him all the time.

'Because my condoms are in the pocket,' Jack said.

'Oh - ' Martha laughed.

'What?'

'I thought you were cold. And – I promised myself I'd marry the first man who remembered condoms before I mentioned them!' She giggled. Jack grinned up at her.

'But this is so sudden! I'm gonna need some time to decide.'

'That wasn't a proposal,' she said indignantly, moving over to let him reach down to his coat and fish in the the inner pocket.

'More of a proposition,' said the Doctor, and grinned at them.

Jack found the condoms, put one on with the haste of the well-practised and severely turned on, and pulled Martha down against him.

As he slipped inside her, she gave a deep gasp. He wasn't painfully big, but generously proportioned, and dear god did he know how to use it. He had the angle spot on, and he was moving and pushing into her and hitting her G-spot perfectly. And then -

It was an old trick but a good one. He laid his right hand carefully against her thigh and began teasing her clit with the tip of his thumb, up and down, left and right, feeling about for the right way to do it, watching her responses...

Jack is good at keeping enough distance to give other people pleasure. It is genuinely no fun for him if he's the only one who gets off. And the condom was dulling things down so he could at least go on a little longer.

Martha moved on top of him, rocking, finding a pace and an angle and going with it. One thumb still rubbing carefully against her swollen clit, he reached across and grabbed the Doctor's arm.

'You're good at breasts,' he said, and laid the Doctor's palm on Martha's left breast. He began to massage and rub it, squeezing gently, focussing in on the nipple. Meanwhile, Jack has licked his other index finger and reached round to -

He was very gentle, and it paid off. Martha gave one little squeak of surprise as he touched her there and then kept moving, allowing him very slightly inside – not enough to hurt or throw them out of rhythm, just enough to tease her.

Her face was turned up now, her body moving hard, her breath coming in short gasps at irregular intervals. He could feel her getting close to coming – not without effort, but building consciously towards an orgasm. Jack, his mind on three things at once, was buzzing with excitement but still more focussed on her pleasure than his. She was bumping against him hard with every thrust, taking him in completely, speeding up – really speeding up, she felt really close, he flicked his thumb rapidly on her hard little clit -

And felt her come, her breath exhaled in a shout, her body shuddering against his, writhing hard against him - and he let it go, lost his focus, and came with her, the pulsing of her against his cock drawing him in and swallowing him up, _oh god that's good, oh, Martha, oh fuck, oh -_

And then they were coming back to themselves, somewhere between laughing and crying, and Martha rolled off him awkwardly and into the Doctor's arms, shuddering and laughing and still saying 'Oh Jack. Oh, Jack.'

Limp and dizzy with the release, he leaned in and kissed her very softly on the lips. The Doctor's arms, which had held her, reached round him too and pressed against his back.

For a long time they lay, tangled up, gasping and happy in the weird hybrid bed.

'Who was it who was playing with my bum?' asked Martha, eventually, and her tone made Jack and the Doctor meet eyes and both giggle.

'That was me,' said Jack.

'Might have known.'

'Did you not like it?' he asked, innocently, as if she hadn't just come so hard she was now too limp and relaxed to move.

'It was just – new. Felt good though.'

'Aha, another convert,' said Jack, and laughed. She gave him a playful shove.

'Hey, now,' said the Doctor. 'No violence unless it's consensual.'

'I don't mind,' said Jack, and for some reason this phrase, which everyone always seemed to use about Jack, made them giggle again.

The Doctor did get up, eventually, and make tea. The Tardis purred contentedly at them, as if she was feeling rather smug.

It was a one-off – just a mixture of friendship and comradeship and chemistry.  But there are worse ways to recuperate.

 

**Author's Note:**

> * Frubble (n); the sensation of pleasure you get when two people you love are also loving each other


End file.
